Live Free Or Bslap Hard
by silver ruffian
Summary: Coyote incurs the wrath of the Torchwood Institute's Animal Control Division when he goes on a rampage on the set of Supernatural. The folks from Dead Like Me are also in this thing. Now complete. Man, I gotta up those meds…
1. he's making a list, checking it twice

_**A/N:**_ The views and opinions expressed by Coyote in this fic do not represent the views of the author.

Well, sorta.

Kinda.

That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.

I do not nor have I ever advocated bitchslapping Eric Kripke. I do have my own list of candidates for the 'slappin', but Kripke's not on it. None of the people mentioned in this story are. Rated M for rough language. Cover your ears, young'uns.

**_A/N #2:_** For those of you who have never read _Dog Eat Dog_, or any stories in the Coyote/Dean 'verse, here's the Reader's Digest version: Dean Winchester is the human half of the trickster god Coyote.

_**Warning: **_Contains possible spoilers for "Live Free or Twi-Hard." If you have not seen that ep, proceed at your own risk or hit the "back" button _now_.

_**Summary:**_ Coyote incurs the wrath of the Torchwood Institute's Animal Control Division when he goes on a rampage on the set of Supernatural. Yeah, like he cares. The folks from _Dead Like Me_ are also in this thing. Man, I gotta up those meds…

* * *

**_Part 1 - he's making a list, checking it twice_**

"Dean?"

"What?"

"Coyote's staring at me."

"He's _what_?"

"Staring. At me. I think he's mad at me."

"So what'd you _do_?"

"Nothing."

"Huh. Uh, Old Man?"

"…."

"HEY! FUZZY!"

"_What?"_

"What the hell's the matter with you?'

"Nothin'. "

"So why are you sitting there giving Sam the evil eye?"

''m not."

"Yeah. You are. You just came from that damn AU again, didn't you? What'd you see over there?"

"Didn't see anything."

"Yeah, you did. So what was it _this_ time?"

" 'm not in'a sharin' and carin' mood, niño."

"Suit yourself. Stop staring at Sam like that, will ya?"

"I'll stare at him any damn time I wanna -"

"WHAT WAS THAT?"

"All right, fine! Damn family's gonna run me crazy one day…"

* * *

Five thirty in the friggin' morning the next day. Dean stumbles out of bed wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs. Coyote's still asleep in the headspace they share, and that's just as well. Whatever weird mood the Old Man was in yesterday, Dean thinks it's better to let the furball sleep it off for as long as possible.

What's standing on the porch ringing Bobby's doorbell is only human, after all. Human and dumb as dirt.

This better be good.

Dean jerks the door open.

Huh. Two male humans, one skinny, one heavyset. Light gray uniforms, typical city employees, all right, pissed that they've got to get up this early to do their jobs. They're both carrying long handled, high tech capture sticks. Dean snort chuckles to himself. Yeah, right, like that would even make a difference against him or Coyote. The dude in the lead bears an uncanny resemblance to Don Knotts, and he's the one carrying a heavy brown leather muzzle and a collar and leash inscribed with containment symbols. That makes Dean grin wolfishly to himself. These folks are always so much fun to play with.

"Something I can do you out of?" Dean growls roughly. His eyes flash golden yellow for a heartbeat.

Barney Fife blinks, like he's suddenly realized this might be a bad idea, the worst idea in the history of bad ideas. He straightens up, looks Dean in the eyes. "Uh…we're…we're here for the Old Man!"

"You guys must be new, right?" Dean drawls.

"Uh…yeah. Second day on the job."

"Thought so." Dean yawns. "They always send the newbies out here."

Barney Fife hands his capture stick off to his buddy, reaches inside his jacket and then thrusts out his arm. Dean just stares at the official looking goldenrod colored document he's fisting.

"A summons?" Dean chuckles. He doesn't make a move to take it. "Dude. Do you have any idea how many of those things we've gotten in the last 3 years? "

Barney's obviously decided to grow a pair. Poor bastard. He tilts his head to one side, hardens his jaw. "Well, uh, that mutt is dangerous and we're supposed to pick him up, put him in quarantine."

Dean scowls at him, and that otherworldly golden glint fires up in his eyes. "Mutt? _Mutt?_"

The grin Barney gives Dean is weak indeed. "Please?"

_Bored now,_ Dean thinks to himself. Barney and his dumb ass partner disappear, wide-eyed and panicky, in a flash of bright light, but before they do they both take on a distinctively canine appearance.

That's only fair. They're mutts now, they can spend the day in the dog pound, where ever the hell that is, and then they'll change back on their own.

Dean vaporizes the capture sticks, the collar and the muzzle. He hates those things with an unholy passion.

The summons is the only thing left behind. Dean leans down, picks it up. Same old same old. He's lost count of how many jackasses from Torchwood Animal Control have shown up over the last three years. Jack Harkness never sends any hot women, just male dorks.

Dean's just about to make the summons disappear when one of the typed entries catches his eye.

Incident site: _Vancouver, Canada._

Complainant: _Wonderland Sound and Vision _

Dean opens up the paper, smooths it out, and stares at it.

_Get out here, fuzzy, _Dean growls silently. _Right now. _

A second after that the Old Man's standing on the porch next to Dean, blinking sleepily and yawning toothily. "What, pup?"

"You bitchslapped Eric Kripke," Dean says flatly.

Coyote grins a little. "Yep. I sure did. Well, the Kripke over there. Not the one over here," he adds cheerfully.

"And I bet you looked like me when you did it."

"Huh? Oh, no. I was four legged and furry. That was not the time to be subtle."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"According to this you also bitchslapped Robert Singer, Jared Padalecki and Sera Gamble."

"Uh huh."

"Did you bitchslap that Ackles dude?"

"Nope," Coyote says proudly.

"Why not?"

"He didn't do anything. And neither did Jim Beaver. I don't go around slapping folks all willy nilly, y'know."

Dean glares at him. "Didn't I tell you to stay away from that AU? It's not real. They're just actors."

"Well," the trickster says slowly (like he doesn't really understand but they both know that he damn well does) "you watch Dr. Sexy M.D., and that's not real either."

Dean sputters. "That's - that's _not_ the same thing!"

"Yeah, it is."

"No, it's _not_."

"Why not?"Coyote does a pretty convincing job of looking wide-eyed and innocent.

"It just _isn't_. I mean," Flustered, Dean scrubs his right hand over his face. "Damn it, don't start with me about that!"

Coyote's enjoying the hell out of this so much he sits down on his haunches and smirks up at his boy.

"One reason why it's not the same?" Dean grumbles, "I didn't bitchslap Doctor Sexy."

"Well, maybe you should," the Old Man says serenely.

Dean growls at him, low and deep. He really wants to lean down, wrap his hands around Roamer's neck and squeeze. Doesn't matter that technically he'd be strangling himself. Instead Dean crumbles the summons in his hand and the paper turns to black ash.

"Anyway, I got two words for you, pup." Coyote pauses for full effect, and then: "Brock Kelly."

"Huh. Did you bitchslap him too?"

"Yeah. First thing." Coyote huffs a laugh. "He tried to run."

"Oh. Well. In that case…you wanna go for pancakes?"

* * *

Der Waffle Haus smells wonderful: strong black coffee, sizzling bacon, all kinds of delectable smells wafting out of the kitchen. Business is good; even at this time of morning the place is filled with folks getting breakfast on their way to work.

All _kinds_ of folks.

Daisy turns around and eyes the four men and the coyote as they walk through the door. "Ooh. They look interesting," she says aloud to no one in particular. "Who are they?"

Mason snorts. "Huh. Winchesters." He doesn't sound happy about it, either.

George looks puzzled. Even though she's been on the job for a while, there's always new stuff that she doesn't know about.

A slow smile spreads across Roxy's face. "They die, but they don't stay dead."

John rolls his eyes as he spots Rube and his crew in their regular booth. "Damn reapers," John growls underneath his breath.

"I heard your boys got you out," Rube says mildly as John walks past. "Good for you."

John stares, long and hard at him. Rube shrugs. "Hey, I was just doing my job that day. No hard feelings."

Sam flicks a startled glance, first at Rube, then at John.

"D-Dad? He's the one? At the hospital? After the car crash?"

John just nods and keeps walking.

Sam glares over his shoulder at Rube, which only makes the reaper nod in return. "The Sam Winchester bitchface. Impressive."

Dean swaggers by. He's definitely working the leather and the stubble. He nods at Rube and Mason, sweeps his gaze over George, Daisy and Roxy.

"Ladies," Dean rumbles as he walks past.

"Well now," Roxy purrs. "The one who got away…." She's seen Dean's wanted poster. That mug shot didn't do him justice.

George grins goofily. She checks out Dean's ass. And Sam's. Nice.

Daisy swoons. As nice as the young ones are, she always was secretly partial to older men. John and Bobby look dangerous. And capable.

Mason sniffs. "I bet he stole that coat from somewhere." Mason yelps as someone stomps on his instep under the table. "_OWw!_ _What_? I bet he did!"

"Oh, hush up, Mason." Roxy thinks about cuffing Dean. Oh, she'd take him into custody, all right.

The Old Man slinks by with his ears laid back, eyes downcast.

_Poor little thing,_ George thinks to herself. She almost reaches out to give him a pat on the head, but then she thinks better of it.

* * *

The Winchesters and Bobby get their regular booth, the one with a clear view of the door. Old habits die hard, even now.

"I thought you said pancakes," Coyote grumbles irritably as Dean slides into the booth. He lifts his head, scents the air. "They have waffles."

"You can get pancakes here," Dean says mildly. He knows good and well Coyote's been to Der Waffle Haus before. He's seen the Old Man in every conceivable mood, but this is something new.

"I want pancakes," Coyote snaps irritably. He hops up onto the bench seat next to Dean. Sam sits down next to Coyote.

The Old Man flattens his ears. Coyote gets up, walks across the table, and pushes his way past Dean into the corner.

"Whoa, what are you doing?"

Coyote bares his teeth at Sam. "Don't wanna sit next to him."

"Okay," Dean snarls. "That's IT! We're talking about this, damn it! Right the hell NOW!"

* * *

George looks over just in time to see a bright golden flash around the Winchester table. Daisy jerks back, startled. So does everyone else at her table.

None of the normals in the place even notice.

Kiffany takes it all in stride. So does Bobby Singer. He's not that heartbroken that Dean 'ported everyone out but him. "Hey, Kiffany."

"Bobby." Kiffany nods in return. "Never a dull moment, huh?"

"Damn Winchesters," Bobby says calmly. "Might as well let 'em hash it out among themselves." He grins a little to himself as he picks up the menu. Now maybe he can eat breakfast in peace for once.

"Uh, a side of ham, eggs scrambled over easy, hash browns, and coffee. No cream, two sugars."

"Be right up."

Kiffany turns away, and just as she does Bobby feels that familiar tingle all over his body. The air around him glows golden.

"Damn it, Dean!"

And just like that, Bobby's gone too.

And he didn't even get his coffee to go.

* * *

Part 2 will be posted tomorrow.


	2. death, angst, and pancakes

_**A/N: **_Pay no attention to that bit about part 2 in the alert. This story is now complete. Thank you.

**_Disclaimer: _**I don't own _Supernatural_, _Torchwood_, or _Dead Like Me_. And I cry every time I really think about that...

* * *

**Part 2 – death, angst, and pancakes**

_"DEAN!"_

Dean shrugs. "Sorry, Bobby."

"Do I really need to be here?" Bobby growls. It suddenly dawns on him that he's the only one sitting down. Dean ported the booth bench in with him.

"Well, yeah," Sam says slowly, clearly puzzled. "You're _family_."

"Don't remind me, boy," Bobby snarls. "The least you could have done was wait until I got my coffee."

John snort-chuckles.

"Okay," Dean says. "Here."

A large white mug fills Bobby's right hand. He stares at it, then takes a cautious sip. "Don't get stingy with the cream and sugar, Winchester."

Dean nods. Bobby takes another sip, then nods his thanks.

Where ever this is, they're not in Kansas anymore, Toto. Thick green grass stretches from horizon to horizon. The ground is flat. Kansas? Maybe, _somewhen_ else.

Coyote sits on his haunches, staring at the ground, ears at half mast, and he won't look up at anybody. That's so far removed from the usually cheerful, smart-ass furball that Dean looks worried now. He takes a deep breath as he rubs the back of his neck with his right hand. "Okay, Old Man. What's wrong?"

Still no answer.

Dean sighs. He kneels down in front of the critter and says, more softly, "Come on. Talk to me, will ya? I...I wanna know how you're feeling right now." Dean shakes his head ruefully. Damn chick flick moment. So it's come to this.

Ah hah! Sam perks right up then.

Coyote raises his head, stares at his pup in amazement. "We havin' a chick flick moment right now, niño?"

Dean huffs. "Us? Oh, _hell_ no."

"Damn right we aren't."

"Idjits," Bobby mutters.

"I can't believe I'm going all Dr. Phil here. That's Oprah's thing," Dean nods at Sam. "Not mine."

"Hey!"

John tries not to snicker. It's not very macho, but he can't help it. He composes himself, but his broad shoulders still shake a little with the effort it takes to settle himself.

"What'd you see?" Dean says quietly. "What's got you all riled up like this?"

Coyote sighs. A huge flat screen tv appears right behind him, and John, Bobby, Sam and Dean suddenly find themselves sitting on this ridiculous black, red and green flowered couch that appears out of nowhere. Roamer sighs again as he settles in on the far corner of the couch with his back to the tv. He curls up in a ball, drapes his tail over his muzzle and closes his eyes as the images fade in on the screen.

* * *

An hour later everyone is sitting there with their mouths dropped open.

Everyone except the Old Man. And Dean. "Hey," he smirks, "I was bad ass. And I didn't sparkle."

Coyote snorts.

"You let your brother get turned into a vamp?" Papa cuffs his youngest son upside the head.

"Ow! Dad! that wasn't me!"

Bobby looks dazed by what he's seen. "Whack him again."

Sam glares at Bobby, and the older man just shrugs. "Sorry, kid."

"So that was it, huh?" Dean turns to his furry better half. "You got upset because you saw Sam..._their_ Sam...let me...I mean _their_ Dean...get turned into a vamp."

Coyote nods.

"It's not real. You know that, right?"

"I know. But…"

"Maybe they needed to get bitchslapped," John says quietly.

Dean snorts. Coyote tries not to grin. That's an epic fail.

"Well, maybe they needed it." John sees the shocked look on Sam's face, the look of disbelief on Bobby's. John shrugs. "What?"

"Uh, John?" Bobby says carefully, "You're supposed to be the mature, steadying influence on these boys."

John looks thoughtful. "Yeah, you'd think that, wouldn't you? All I'm saying is that sometimes you gotta act on what you see. That's all. A lot of stuff rubs me the wrong way."

"Uh, Dad?" Dean quirks an eyebrow at him.

John's clearly warming up to the subject. "People who send emails and every other damn word is LOL. What the hell is that?"

"Dad?" Sam frowns.

"Fanfiction," John's tone is a mixture of disgust and wonder as he shakes his head. "Genderswap? Jesus!"

"Dad!" Both brothers say the word at the same time. John ignores them both.

"That's bad enough, but mpreg? Mpreg, for God's sake! And wincest?" John shudders.

"Maybe you ought to step away from the laptop. And quit emailing Becky the Fangirl." Bobby says it. The boys wouldn't dare.

"What?" John looks deeply offended. "I'd miss out on everything then!"

Bobby quirks an eyebrow at him. "You finished?"

"For now, anyway."

Coyote lifts his head, glances at Dean almost shyly.

"I'm not gonna tell you not to keep going over there." Dean says, and there it is again, that soft, caring tone that makes a shiver of pure joy course down the Old Man's spine. "Just don't let yourself get suckered in by it, okay?"

"Okay." Coyote looks at Sam. " 'm...'m sorry I snapped at you. Won't happen again."

"It's okay," Sam says warmly. He raises his arms, opens them wide, and the next thing anybody knows, Sam lunges forward on the couch and engulfs Old Man Coyote in a tight, fierce hug.

* * *

"Will you look at that!" Mason exclaims. "They took the bench seat with them!" He's excited at the prospect that somebody other than him has screwed up. Big time.

Kiffany's not happy. She's standing there staring at what's left of the booth, frowning, and for some reason absolutely no one else in the place (except for Rube and his crew) even seem to notice.

Rube stirs cream into his coffee. "Yep. Typical Winchester. You wanna see where they've been, check for the widespread damage."

"If I'd done that I would have gotten my ass kicked!" Mason's absolutely giddy with glee. "That's bloody vandalism!"

Roxy quirks an eyebrow at him just as she samples her OJ. "You might get your ass kicked anyway," she says pointedly.

A flash of golden light surrounds the Winchesters' booth.

"They're back," Daisy says excitedly. She leans forward to get a closer look, and that irks Mason to no end. "What have they got that I haven't got?" he snarls.

"Oh, let's see," Daisy ticks off each point on her fingers. "Looks, personality, charisma, power, personal hygiene..."

Mason sniffs his left armpit. "Oh. Sorry."

Rube rolls his eyes. "Am I gonna have to give you the lecture again?"

"No," Mason whines. It's a distinctly dog-like sound, and that makes George laugh. Reminds her of JD, her dog.

"You get demerits next time. A clean reaper is a happy reaper." Rube knows that's stupid, but he never misses a chance to take a dig at Mason.

George looks thoughtful.

"You got something on your mind, peanut?" Rube smiles a little. "Let's hear it."

"Uh...okay. You reaped the father."

"That's right."

"So...they can be reaped?" She nods at the four men and the coyote in the booth.

"Ah. Maybe. It doesn't take. Never does."

George's eyes widen. "Maybe?"

Rube shrugged. "Right hand didn't know what the left hand was doing. The front office would send down Post-Its with their names on them, we'd follow through, then it would all get rescinded. The Old Man's the prime intermediary liason between the living and the dead. We were out of the loop until he came out."

"Out? Out from where?" George looks puzzled.

"He was inside the eldest kid for over twenty two years."

"What?" George makes a face. "Ewww!"

"See? I knew it. Bestiality!" Mason crows. He looks thoughtful then. "Hmmm, wonder how that felt?"

"What?"

"Well, I mean, if they're two sides of the same coin, and things got carnal, that means he was playing with himself-"

Roxy rolls her eyes. "All right. That's it!" She takes out her billy club and gives Mason a rap upside the head with it. He faceplants into the plate of hash browns in front of him.

"Thank you, Roxy." Rube takes a slow, thoughtful sip of coffee.

Roxy smiles. "Any time."

* * *

Dean flashes Kiffany a bright smile, but apparently his mojo isn't working that well with her. She taps her foot, stares at the newly returned booth bench.

"Did you bolt it down to the floor like it was before?"

Dean nods meekly. "Yes ma'm."

"I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't rearrange the furniture like that. We like the place just fine the way it is."

"Sorry. Won't happen again."

"He hugged me," Coyote mutters dazedly. His fur still looks ruffled. "Sam hugged me."

Kiffany takes out her pad and pencil. "What'll you have?"

"Feline?" The Old Man says hopefully.

Kiffany smiles. "Not on the menu today, sweetie."

Coyote puts his head down on the table and whines.

"Be right back," Kiffany murmurs softly. She disappears into the kitchen, then returns a moment later with something in a large white bowl. She puts the bowl down on the table in front of Coyote. "Here."

Coyote stares down into the bowl. His nose twitches, and there's an unmistakable gleam in those wide green eyes.

"That's roasted chicken, but you can pretend it's cat. My treat."

Coyote sticks his head in the bowl and he doesn't come up for air. Everybody stares at first, but then they remember he doesn't need to breathe. Not really.

Kiffany smiles a little. The Old Man's tail is really wagging now. "Okay, what'll the rest of you have?"

* * *

Later on that same day Coyote sits in the yard near that rusted out dump truck of Bobby's. He lays his ears back as he hears the Great Outdoors and all points way beyond that calling to him.

_Come on over here, Old Man, You know you wanna. _

Coyote fidgets a little. Well, truth to tell, he fidgets a lot. He could hang out with Rumsfeld2 and Condie and the other dogs, but, hey, that's just the point. As much as he likes them, they're just dogs. He's something else entirely. Roamer has to roam, after all.

But not now. And not today. He'll be a good dog, but he doesn't know how long _that's_ going to last. He _has_ to make it last. He can't take the chance of seeing something else over in that other AU and snapping at Sam again. Doesn't want his family mad at him again.

_Roamer?_ The distant dimensions call. Coyote closes his eyes. _Come here. We miss you._

He's the First Artist, First Scolder, the Fine Young Chief Howling in the Dawn in the East, and that last name is surely one of his favorites. Coyote sits there with his eyes squeezed shut, and his ears at half mast. He has family now, and nobody has ever hung around this long before. He doesn't want them to leave. Coyote can't die, but he would if they left him.

_Old Man?_

_Shut up,_ Coyote growls back. _Shut the hell up -_

He catches a scent on the breeze that freezes him in place. Four different scents then, one after the other, and they all combine into one glorious, heady aroma, the one he's waited for, hoped for all his life.

…_uswebloodfamily…_

"Hey. Dude?"

Coyote blinks. Dean's there, and so is John. There's Sam and there's Bobby.

"We got places to go, fuzzy. You coming or not?" Dean grins.

"I gotta talk to that Padalecki about that white suit," Sam grumbles. He's one eyebrow twitch away from full-frontal bitchface. "You saw what he did in that out-take reel."

Dean rolls his eyes. "_Again_ with the white suit? Let it _go_, Sam."

Sam shakes his head _no_.

Bobby snorts. "I'm coming along because I'm bored. This better be good."

John slips what looks like a list into his jacket. He pats his pocket and winks at Coyote. "Come on, kiddo. Let's go thump some heads."

_-finis-_

_**A/N:**_ I am in no way advocating misbehavior by trickster gods or Winchesters. I…oh wait a minute, who the heck am I fooling? I can't even say that with a straight face. My muse tells me that there might be a sequel to this thing. Something about Dean and Coyote and Captain Jack Harkness, and maybe Coyote and George Lass and JD and that kid reaper. Not all in the same fic, of course. We'll see…


End file.
